by Terri Osburn
An hour later, Callie had a dozen applications for Yvonne to process so that everyone would get paid. She considered running them over to the Anchor, but didn’t want to leave in case she was needed. Instead, she would call with a warning, and then send them through the fax.
If her luck held, the ancient machine would cooperate.
“Anchor Inn. How may I help you?” Yvonne answered.
“You’re not going to like me much today,” Callie said by way of greeting. “I’m sending over a dozen applications for processing.”
“A dozen?” Yvonne asked.
“Yes, ma’am. All but four are at the base rate. I’ve marked the exceptions.”
“But how?”
“Never underestimate the power of making children laugh,” Callie said. “Can you transfer me in to Sam? I want to tell him the good news.”
“Sure,” Yvonne replied, “but he has a meeting in a few minutes. He won’t have much time to talk.”
“No problem,” Callie said. “This won’t take long.”
“Okay.” Yvonne put her on hold, and Callie hummed along with the classical tune as she waited for Sam to pick up.
The music ended, and then Sam said, “Good morning. I hope you have good news.”
“Very good news.” Callie’s cheeks hurt from the amount of smiling she’d done in the last hour. “Twelve,” she said. “Twelve people reported for duty. I have four new floor installers and everyone else is wielding paint rollers.”
“I guess I should make a spectacle of myself more often,” he said, his voice not as enthusiastic as she’d expected. “I’m glad they showed up.”
“You realize what this means, don’t you?” Callie asked. “We’re still digging out of a hole, since we were so far behind, but if we push really hard, we can get this done. By the deadline.”
Sam mumbled something Callie didn’t understand. “What was that?” she asked.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said more clearly. “I was talking to someone else. Someone is here for a meeting. I need to go.”
“Sam,” Callie said, confused about why he wasn’t more excited, “we’re going to hit this deadline.”
“Yes, I hear you. I need to go.” He mumbled again, his voice muted as if he’d put his hand over the receiver; then he came back. “I’ll be over soon.” A click, and the line went dead.
What the hell meeting could be more important than this project? Not that she expected Sam to keep anyone waiting, but he could have sounded a bit happier that their plan had worked. These people were only saving the project. No big deal.
“Hey there,” said a voice from her office doorway.
Callie glanced up to see Will Parsons sticking her head in. “Hey, yourself. I didn’t expect to see you today.”
“I hope I’m not bothering you,” Will said. “I should have called first. This place looks crazy busy.”
Beaming with excitement, Callie nodded. “Yes, it does. Thank goodness. But you’re not bothering me at all. I have some documents to fax, but I can talk and do that at the same time.”
Motioning for Will to have a seat, Callie rolled her chair to the long table behind her desk and laid the stack of applications beside the fax machine. Knowing the machine could be cranky when fed too much, Callie pulled four sheets and stuck them in the top.
“So what’s up?” she asked Will. “Is this an official or a friendly visit?”
“Official,” Will said.
A hint of nervousness settled in Callie’s gut. If Will expected to see more of the hotel finished, this could go badly. “Okay. How can I help you?”
“I was wondering what you planned to do once this renovation is finished. Or rather,” Will hemmed, “I know someone who is wondering.”
“You mean where am I going to work?” Callie asked. “I don’t actually know yet, but why?”
Will leaned forward in her chair. “I know I haven’t technically seen what you can do here, but I did a little online search and found images of what you’ve done before. The decorating is fantastic.”
Callie wasn’t sure how she felt about being googled, but she appreciated the compliment.
“Thank you. Choosing and arranging the décor is my favorite part.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Will pulled a brochure from her bag and held it out for Callie. “This is the largest real estate business on the island. They manage most of the rental properties and are looking to give many of them a makeover. Since everything here is furnished and most of it hasn’t been updated for decades, they could use your help.”
“I . . .” Callie hesitated, studying the brochure in her hand. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“It wouldn’t be a permanent position,” Will warned, “but you could stay on Anchor a bit longer. At least six months would be my guess. And you never know, something else might come open after that.”
Her visitor sounded more positive than not that something else would become available. But why did Will want Callie to stay on the island? If this was about giving her a reason to stay with Sam, then the nosy islanders had seriously crossed a line.
“This does sound like something I’d enjoy,” Callie said. “But I’m a little confused. Why are you going out of your way to keep me here? I hope this has nothing to do with Sam and me.”
Will shook her head. “Whatever is going on between you and Sam has nothing to do with this. To be honest, I’m sort of hedging a bet.”
“I don’t follow.”
“If my business takes off like I’m hoping it will, my life is going to get crazy busy. I’ve never been in charge of everything before,” Will admitted. “I used to be an accountant by trade, so I can handle the numbers, but the amount of details involved in planning a wedding, especially from a distance, is more than I expected.”
Callie could see where a less experienced planner could be overwhelmed, especially when dealing with a high-stress event like a wedding. “I’m not sure where I come into this.”
Will motioned toward the giant hotel diagram on the wall behind Callie. “You’re the detail person. I can see from here that you’ve thought of everything down to the trim and toilet seats.”
Blinking, Callie said, “There are a lot of details that go into a project like this. But I’m not planning a wedding; I’m making over a building. The building doesn’t have breakdowns or throw temper tantrums. And it doesn’t come with an overbearing mother. Or two.”
“I wouldn’t make you deal with the clients,” Will said. “I need someone to handle the details while I handle the clients. And the books. And finding more clients. I can’t keep everything going here if I’m on the road, traveling to bridal shows.”
This was quickly starting to sound like a job offer. In a field Callie had never considered. But it would allow her to stay on this island, which she’d love to do regardless of what happened between her and Sam. And she could put her nomad life to rest, put down roots, and maybe have a real place of her own.
“But what if your business doesn’t take off?” Callie asked.
Will sighed. “Then you get to spend an extra six months here doing something you love before finding another job elsewhere. But you should probably know that I’m an independently wealthy woman.” With a grin, she added, “I can afford you. What do you say?”
Callie couldn’t be expected to give an answer right now. “I’d need to talk to the real estate office to see what they’re offering.”
“Debbie is available whenever you are.”
If Will thought she wasn’t good with details, she was selling herself short.
“I’m going to be busy here for the foreseeable future,” Callie said. “Would she be willing to meet on a Sunday?”
“Consider it done,” Will said, bouncing out of her chair. “Would next Sunday work?”
“Um . .
. sure.”
“I’ll call you with a time.” Will hefted her bag onto her shoulder. “The address is there on the brochure. I hope you’ll really consider this.”
Callie stood to walk Will out. “I will. And thanks for having such faith in me.”
“Not a problem.” Will stepped into the lobby. “I’ll be calling soon.”
As her new friend and unexpected benefactor made her exit, Callie returned her attention to the slip of glossy paper in her hand. As far as Mondays went, this one was turning out better than most. The project was back on track, and she might have found her own new job.
Or the job had found her. Either way, Callie felt a sense of accomplishment, and a trace of relief that she wouldn’t need Sam to help her find a new position. Though she worried that he might question her motives for staying on the island. Her impending departure was the harbinger that signified the end of their relationship.
What would it mean if that departure was no longer coming? Would Sam want to keep seeing her? Would he end their affair no matter what? And could Callie handle staying on Anchor Island and not having Sam as part of her life?
They’d been sleeping together less than a week. This wasn’t the great love of her life. This was great sex. Sam had been adamant that he would never marry again. And Callie wasn’t taking that plunge again unless she found someone who saw her as an equal. The chances of that man being Sam were highly unlikely.
This time was about Callie and her life. Her career. Wedding planning might not have been on her radar, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t consider it. Working for Will could be a fun use of her skills and talents and provide her with the stability she craved. Plus, something told Callie that Will would be a generous, respectful boss.
Independently wealthy. Wouldn’t that be nice?
That settled it. If the decorating job was worth her time, then Callie would take it. And if Sam had an issue with her staying on Anchor, that would be his problem to deal with, not hers.
“I appreciate your seeing me on such short notice,” Lucas said, taking a seat across the desk from Sam.
“You said you had good news,” Sam replied. He’d been struggling not to get his hopes up since he’d listened to Lucas’s message that morning. “So, you found something?”
Lucas grinned. “More like realized something that I believe means you’re free to go.”
Sam tensed. “You found a way to break the terms?”
“No,” Lucas said, nodding. “So long as your inheritance wasn’t contingent upon marriage, divorce, or a change of religion on your part, Morty’s request could be enforced.”
This didn’t sound like good news so far. “Then how am I free to leave the island?”
“ ‘Enforced’ is the key word. The executor of the will was Walter Trindle, correct?”
“Yes,” Sam answered, not sure what his uncle’s oldest friend had to do with anything. “But he died a year after I took over the hotels.”
“Exactly,” Lucas said. “So if you leave now, who would enforce the terms of the will?”
“You’re the legal expert here. Who would enforce it?”
“My guess is no one.”
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose, struggling for patience. “What do you mean, you guess?” he asked.
“That’s where I need a little more information,” Lucas said, leaning forward in his chair. “Besides Artie, you, and me, who else knows about the terms of the will?”
Sam and Walter had been the only people present at the reading of the will, and Artie had explained at the time that the preservation society would not be notified unless Sam refused the inheritance. “As far as I know, there isn’t anyone else.”
“Then it’s no longer a guess.” Lucas sat back with a look of certainty on his face. “If you walk away now, the only way to enforce the terms of the will would be for someone to bring legal action on behalf of the estate. Since Walter is gone, there’s no one left to file a challenge.”
Except the preservation society. There would be nothing to stop Artie Berkowitz from spilling the beans, and Rosemary would jump at the chance to take the hotels away from Sam. Especially when she’d be getting them for less than one-tenth of what they were worth.
“You’re forgetting someone,” Sam said.
“Who?”
The man who’d helped complicate Sam’s life three years ago. “Artie.”
Lucas looked smug. “I’ve already talked to Artie. He’s impressed with what you’ve done to improve the hotels. Says Morty would be proud and you deserve to have your life back.”
Sam wanted to believe it. To trust that his uncle’s lawyer would keep the secret if Sam decided to leave. But how could he be sure?
“And you believe him?” he asked. Lucas had known Berkowitz a lot longer than Sam had. “You take him at his word?”
“Artie has no reason to lie,” Lucas replied. “Besides, he never wanted to see Rosemary get the hotels. Let’s say they have a history, and it isn’t a positive one. I didn’t get the details out of him, but his dislike of the old busybody was clear.”
What Sam wouldn’t give to have known this bit of island history long before now. “All of this seems too good to be true. Ten minutes ago I was sentenced to two more years on this island, and now I’m free to go.”
“Consider the gates open.” Lucas rose from his chair. “But I want you to know, some of us will be sorry to see you leave.”
Sam exited his chair as well. “I hope you know how much I appreciate your help in this. You’ve given me a reprieve I doubted was possible.”
“Just earning my fees,” Lucas said, accepting Sam’s extended hand. “You’ve been a friend to our little speck of the world here. Thank you for helping us bring the place back to life.”
It was nice to have his contributions acknowledged. “Happy to do my part,” he said, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. And he did like the island. The limitations it inflicted on his life were the real problem.
After Lucas took his leave, Sam returned to his desk, spun in his chair, and watched the boats bob in the harbor outside his window. His sentence had been revoked. He was a free man. The first thing he wanted to do was call Callie and tell her. But she didn’t know he’d been bound to the island in the first place.
Better to wait until they were off the island before he gave her the full story.
And then Sam realized what he was thinking. When Callie left after Christmas, he could go with her. He could find the perfect property, and she could help him make it into something special. They could do it together. And stay together.
When had he changed his mind about their relationship? Sam struggled to pinpoint the shift, the moment he’d gone from being anticommitment to wanting more. Running the last week over in his mind, Sam landed on the answer.
The winter festival. He could still see her standing there at the side of the tent, cheering him on, giving him unconditional support. That had been pride in her eyes that day, and not only for her talking parrot. Callie didn’t want him for his money, position, or power. She wanted him.
“How about that,” Sam said, a full grin splitting his face.
CHAPTER 24
Sam walked into the Sunset Harbor Inn wearing faded blue jeans and a well-worn Clemson Tigers T-shirt under his brown suede coat as the crew collected in the dining room for lunch. Callie had been discussing the history of the inn with Elder Wonnamack when the bell over the door jingled, drawing her attention. For a split second, her heart skipped a beat.
There was something different about Sam this morning. She could see it in his face. This wasn’t serious hotelier Sam, or the more casual, relaxed version who’d slept next to Callie every night for the last week.
The Sam Edwards standing before her was actually . . . happy.
“Hello there,” he said, pulli
ng off his jacket and hanging it on the already-overloaded coatrack by the door. “I see I made it in time for lunch.”
Jack had ordered fried chicken from Howard’s Café, and the aluminum trays were spread out along the now-faux-marble counter.
“You did,” she said, still distracted by the look on Sam’s face. “Are you okay?”
Flashing a smile she’d never seen before, Sam said, “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
Callie narrowed her eyes. “You look different.”
“I’m wearing work clothes. I wore the same thing all last week.”
Which confused her more. “But I told you we have more people now. Why are you dressed to work?”
“You said we’re still behind.”
Callie hadn’t thought Sam was listening when they’d talked on the phone. “We are.”
“Then one more body is a good thing.”
This particular body was a great thing, Callie thought, admiring the width of Sam’s shoulders beneath the orange cotton shirt. Though his eyes were more distracting today. They were practically twinkling as he took in the scene around them. What the hell had happened in that meeting this morning?
“You’re freaking me out a little bit here,” she said, unable to ignore his new-and-improved demeanor. “Who are you, and what have you done with Sam Edwards?”
Leaning close to her, he whispered, “Can’t I just be happy to see you?”
Now she knew something was up. Sam only flirted when they were alone, and even then he never said things like that.
Pulling back to look him in the eye, Callie said, “You’re up to something.”
“And you are being annoyingly paranoid,” Sam replied, taking a step toward the counter. “Toss me a Coke, will you, Jack?” The clerk did as requested, and Sam popped the top. “What’s been done so far this morning?”
Finally, business Sam was here. This one she recognized.
“We now have three two-man crews installing hardwood down here on the first floor, and four two-person crews handling the painting upstairs. I had them skip the bigger suites at the far end for now so we can knock out the standards. With four teams, we can finish at least a color block a day, applying no fewer than two coats on each wall, three when necessary.”